Funeral of a Savior
by Frog Slayer
Summary: Someone very dear to the village has died and everyone has their own feelings about it. Intended to be an analysis of the various forms of grief. Each new paragraph is a different perspective.


Funeral of a Savior

by Frog Slayer

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AN: Note to the wise this is set up so that each paragraph is a new perspective. I intentionally left out names, if you're really adamant about knowing which ones are who then im me or something. Anyway, I'll warn you this is a fic about a funeral so it is depressing. If you don't like any pairings implied, or future situations I have created, tough. If you happen to like Sasuke I'm sorry. I don't own naruto or any of it's characters.

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The sun didn't shine on days like this. It was almost as though nature knew better than to disturb the hallowed melancholy. Untold numbers had gone to the afterlife, and the promise of more hung in the damp air. It was a proper day for a funeral, if there ever was one.

The man depicted before him was an unfailingly gentle soul, and everyone had taken that for granted. Even the few who had understood what he gave to them all somehow thought his brilliance would be there forever. His smiling face, his encouraging words, his existence was proof undeniable that pure perseverance could get one through anything. Through hardships, unknown to all but a rare few among them, he had fought with a glowing smile on his face. If only they could all fight destiny with as much gusto.

Was it because no one had been there for him? It couldn't have been. There was a time he was alone, the brat had told him, but there were people flocking to him now. There were fan clubs of people who practically worshiped the kid. The aged man let out a slight chuckle. It seemed somehow appropriate that a funeral for this brat would have laughter. Nearly his entire life had been devoted to getting peoples attention, often that entailed mischief. Maybe as tribute to the boys memory he'd get together with a bunch of people and graffiti the Hokage monument, one last time.

People are funny. Being reminded of their own mortality scares them, especially so when young ones have passed on. Provided he didn't enjoy the loss of such an important figure in his life, but he still accepted the inevitability of death. Perhaps it was because of his past... activities. Really, he felt somewhat jealous of his savior. They had lived through similar fates, and it seemed to him that the afterlife would be a nice relief from their lives. It was only a shame that future generations would only know such a strong person from stories and a name carved in stone.

She couldn't help the sobs that echoed from her shaking body. Her husband had been taken from her, and though she knew their children needed someone to lean on, her sadness could not be held back. In her life it was made glaringly obvious that she would never meet her families standards, but somehow he had given her the strength to persevere. Being friends with him had given her courage, made her break out of her shell, and given her what she needed to achieve everything she set out to do. He was a truly wonderful man and she planned to let everyone she could get her hands on know that.

It wasn't the person so much as what he represented that saddened her. Shame was the foremost emotion in her regimen. Getting to know him had never been anywhere near the top of her to do list, and now she wished it had. Everything she heard about the man before them had made him out to be a saint. All the lives he had changed, saved, influenced was miraculous in itself. Just with his words he had turned entire lives into what they should have been. Perhaps they all had lost a saint in him, and that was enough to make the world a bit more melancholy.

He looked down at the bright orange rose in his hands. It made him vaguely wonder who had chosen the flowers. A mental note was made to thank them later. The traditional white would seem wrong at his funeral. As children, and truthfully grown ups, everything they had done had been consumed with mischief. It would be wrong to disrespect the joy he tried to spread. They may have gone separate ways in adulthood, but the exuberant blonde had stayed true to himself. A light chuckle echoed somewhere in the crowd and he joined them, after all, he wouldn't want his friend to came back just to kick his ass.

They had sneered at his very existence for years. With angered whispers and pointed stares they attempted to destroy "the beast", but the one they saw before them was a child, human in every way. Ignorance had fueled their perception of him, and they had willingly accepted it. It became a blanket to their wounded pride, for they had thrown it away. They had spent their lives in a fruitless attempt to break him, and now that they had seen him, unmistakably human, bitter realization hit. The true poison, the real monster that had plagued Konoha for all those years... was their own blind hatred, and it was too late to fix it now.

He had barely reached his twenties and already... He was like family to her. She could still remember when they met. The man was a savior to many without even trying. Being hated by nearly the entire village could have turned him into the monster they so longed for him to be. Through hell and high water he had worked his way into peoples hearts. Every ounce of trust he received he had earned through terrible hardship, and somehow he had become Hokage. Sadly, like his father before him, it was not fated to last. She chuckled through a sob with her old friend, for she knew that her would be relative would not have wanted to go out any other way.

His master had been right about bonds creating hatred. If he could have found the one who had caused this there would not be another death, that was far too kind a fate for them. The thought of being like the Uchiha left a foul taste in his mouth, but some things were worth losing ones soul for. Only once before in his life had anyone caused so much raw emotion in him. Joy, laughter, pain, anger, hatred, they had all been only concepts to interpret through definition, he did not feel them himself. That is until the man they all mourned came. He gave a sort of incorruptible love to everyone, and the one who had taken that from them all deserved a truly horrible fate.

Another loss to the village. Another comrade gone forever. The young continued dying while he remained far beyond his life expectancy. Part of him wished he could trade places with the one before him. His student had become a responsible adult, taking the position of Hokage, settling down and having a few kids. The man had been a remarkable person, protecting everyone with little reward and no thanks. Everything he had ever longed for, he had finally obtained, only to be jerked away from it all. He had sacrificed all he had worked so hard for, and his sensei would ensure that what was left of it would remain for as long as possible. It would just be another thing in the long list of things he did daily for his fallen friends.

A single tear trailed down her pale cheek. It was not allowed that she feel sadness, if only because it wasn't what he would want. Every moment they had ever spent together, every memory they made, every mission completed only cemented the familial bond they had developed. Perhaps it wasn't blood that made them siblings, but they never gave a shit about pointless things like genetics. They were a family, disfunctional as they may have been, but a family none the less. That fact was only carved in stone in her mind when several more silent tears joined the first and she felt her senseis hand rest on her shoulder comfortingly. They had both lost a brother. She only hoped he was being his aggravatingly energetic self wherever he had gone off to.

It was more silent than usual in his cell. Of course he knew why. The Hokage had died. It was common sense to assume nothing would be happening the day of his funeral. Survivors guilt had always been a close friend, and this was not going to be an exception. His mind told him "If only I had been in the fight, maybe he would be alive." He hadn't been there, he never would be again. Cement walls, seals, and cold bars were all he ever had hope of seeing, and he had earned it all. He had destroyed the only thing that really mattered without a second thought, and for that he deserved a fate far worse than he had been dealt. How he longed to be rid of his own existence, but until then he would spend every day trapped with only the thought of the sins he had committed against the late Hokage.

So he had died? Ah well, he had half expected it to happen anyway. At least he had kept the village safe. Everyone would be okay for the time being, and that was what mattered. It was kind of creepy to be at his own funeral though. He'd have to remember not to do that next time. People walked to the front, laying their bright orange flowers in front of his picture. Some cried, some frowned, some smiled, but all mourned. For the first time he realized how much he was truly valued. Time stood still for an entire village, and it was all for him. He had striven for it in life, and only in death did he realize that he already had it. Irony at its best. That seemed to be about his luck though. His wife cried and he longed to dry her tears. His friends hurt and he wanted so much to be able to make it go away. The village, his family, ached and he couldn't do anything for them anymore but pray they would all find peace. It was his time. He stood before them disoriented, smiling, crying, laughing, not knowing precisely what the right thing to do was. Finally through his laughter and tears "Sayonara" floated from his lips, leaving only the memory of him behind.

His kindred was dead, gone forever. The only child in all of his years of educating he had truly felt was his had sacrificed himself for a village full of people who didn't deserve it. Had the teacher been any less a man, he may very well have cursed, yelled, screamed, accusations of what they had done to the man who had given up everything for them. His lonely child deserved to have the whole village and then some lay down their lives for what they had done, and everything he had for them. People filed out of the assembly, returning to their lives, and still he stood there. A single orange rose was clutched in his hands tearing open the skin. He wasn't ready to let go yet. Eyes hollow, and body numb he stared at the ground only lifting his head when he heard gentle laughter. HIS laughter. Scrambling for the picture before him he lifted it and said, "What am I suppose to do?" The laughter continued until finally, "Sayonara" reached his ears. With that one word, all that needed telling had been expressed. With that word his boy had told them all he was okay and not to follow him. Silent tears traveled his cheeks and he gently placed his flower, the final rose, with the many others. "Sayonara."


End file.
